


Two Ghosts

by samwhambam



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, brief mentions about how they died, brief mentions about the afterlife, but all that stuff happens before the story starts, but it's kind of like the good place where it just exists and its not about religion, don't come for me about my ghosts physics, it's david and patrick but they're ghosts, just ghosty things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/pseuds/samwhambam
Summary: David and Patrick meet as ghosts when Patrick's family move into the house next to the one David's haunting, and bring Patrick along with them.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 41
Kudos: 93
Collections: Schitt's Creek Trick Or Treat





	Two Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [samwhambam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/pseuds/samwhambam) in the [SCTrickOrTreat](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCTrickOrTreat) collection. 



> much thanks to my beta who told me this was good and that people would read it even though it’s kind of a downer

_ “We’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.” —Two Ghosts by Harry Styles. _

  
  


There was a house, at the end of the country road that Main Street in Schitt’s creek turned into, that emitted a black aura. It wasn’t visible to the human eye, but it chilled the bones of those who were open to the idea of what’s inside.

At the heart of the house was the ghost of a man who spent his days wandering the yard and fitting himself into the crevices of the house and waiting until the moment where he could pass through to the other side. 

It had been years since the fateful day and David Rose was starting to lose hope; with each day that passed, David was convinced he would be stuck on the property forever. Wandering got repetitive, and listening in on the family who lived in the house made him feel worse, more isolated and alone, unable to communicate with them. Each day, they paraded around him, living their lives and lighting a fire of envy in David’s body. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He needed to move on. But he couldn’t. 

He had been adopted by the family when the youngest daughter saw his Givenchy flame sweater at the thrift store Stevie had taken most of his clothes to after his passing. He didn’t know why his soul had attached to that one when if he had to choose one sweater to take into the afterlife, it would’ve been his Helmut Lang Mohawk hoodie. 

David had been offended when she said it would be perfect for her Calcifer halloween costume, but he appreciated the change in scenery from the disorganized thrift shop to the single family home. He was grateful, but not enough to not roll his eyes at the girl who wore one of his favorite Givenchy and a hastily made crown of paper fire out to trick or treat in. 

At least the yard was large, and there was a treehouse in the back that David learned to like spending time in. There was nothing to one side of the house, just a field, and the house on the other side of David’s had a dog that barked viciously every time it sensed David coming near. There were no other spirits on the street, and after his first failed attempt at speaking to a human that was alive, David didn’t bother.

So he stuck to his house, he couldn’t walk more than a block each way away from it, and just endured each day. Alone. 

Well, that is until the people next door moved and a car drove up the street. It turned into the driveway and was closely followed by a moving truck that glowed a muddy blue. 

*

It was slightly past witching hour the first time David saw him. 

David was in the treehouse, watching the stars when he saw movement through the muddy blue aura that surrounded the neighbors house. The man was wandering around the yard and David watched as the man froze and slowly turned to face David. 

His eyes were wide and David felt his own breath hitch when they made eye contact. The man could  _ see _ David. Everything in David told him to turn away from this weird unknown, but he scooted closer to the edge of the treehouse and then jumped down and off. He landed without a sound and made his way to the fence. His body relaxed and then he moved through the fence.

Long gone were the days where moving through solid features felt like a punch in the gut. Now it was just a flutter of butterflies in his tummy. 

Or maybe that was from the man who was standing in front of him, the first person, alive or dead, to see him in years. 

“Hi,” The man said. David nodded at him. 

“Hi,” David said. He had waited a second to respond. He wasn’t sure about … any of this; didn’t know if human greetings were still the proper protocol in this limbo between life and afterlife. 

“I’m Patrick,” The man—Patrick—said. He held out his hand. David stared down at it. He could manipulate the energy that coursed through his body to fluctuate between different levels of solid. 

With the furrow of a brow, David reached out, hand as solid as it could be, and ready to wrap his hand around Patrick’s, the memory of how it felt to hold someone’s hand was there, but the sensation of it was long gone. 

David’s hand passed through Patrick’s. 

When he looked up at Patrick, Patrick was looking away, lips tucked down into a frown. 

“Sorry,” Patrick turned back to David. “I haven’t been um, well, it hasn’t been long. I’m still getting used to what I can and cannot do.”

“It’s okay,” David realized he still hadn’t introduced himself. “I’m David Rose.”

“David,” Patrick repeated back to him. But there was no indication that Patrick knew of David. Everyone in the area knew of David, even where he was now, an hour drive outside of Schitt’s Creek. 

Everyone knew of poor David Rose, who died in a tragic accident. It had been the talk of the countryside for a full year. Except Patrick didn’t know.

“You’re not from around here,” David said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Nope,” Patrick indicated back to the house. “They—I guess we? We moved from about seven hours north of here. That feels weird to say. They moved and brought me with them.” Patrick gestures to the moving van, still parked on the street.

David looked at the house, its pulsing blue was still strange and unsettling. The new neighbors were quieter than the last ones. The single child was calmer than the others on the block, and they didn’t have a dog like the owners before. 

The dad and child really only went outside to play catch, but David didn’t mind the rhythmic sound of the ball hitting their baseball gloves. 

It was nice. 

“What’re you attached to?” David asked. It wasn’t like he could ask what he does for a living, or what he does in his spare time. 

As a ghost, you did whatever the people you lived with were doing. Or rather, observed whatever they were doing. You watched what they watched, watched what they played with. 

“A baseball glove,” Patrick said. “My spirit attached to a baseball glove that got handed off to my pre-teen cousin. I hardly ever talked to them because they lived far away, but the kid took it from my parents house after the funeral.”

David couldn’t hold back the grimace. 

“Yeah,” Patrick turned back to the house. “I guess it could be worse.”

“At least you’re living with family,” David offered. He was living with strangers. 

Correction, they  _ were _ strangers. Now David knows them better than he knew his own family. 

“What’re you attached to?” Patrick asked. 

“A sweater,” David couldn’t bring himself to mention that it was Givenchy and covered in flames. That before the accident, when he wore that sweater, he felt alive in a way he usually didn’t. In that sweater, he was bold and could tell people no and could do what he actually wanted. It was a piece of armor that kept him alive through multiple adventures with people who survived on too much alcohol and cocaine. It was the fire that kept him from getting burned.

It was too fucking ironic. 

“My best friend donated it to a thrift shop and some kid picked it out to go with their Halloween costume.”

That was the other bit of irony in the situation. Givenchy in a thrift shop in Elmdale County. In LA or NYC, he could believe it. But here? He bit back a scoff. 

“We’re both stuck with strangers,” Patrick stated. 

David hummed in acknowledgement. 

He had enough of the conversation. Conversing with strangers while you were alive was one thing. But as ghosts with nothing to talk about? 

Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but David cut him off. 

“I’ll see you around,” David said as he let himself drift back. 

“Yeah, okay,” Patrick watched as David merged back through the fence. 

He knew he was going to talk to Patrick again. There was nothing else to do, but he wanted to be alone right now. 

David didn’t go back to the treehouse for fear of Patrick staying in his backyard and watching him. 

*

David could feel his energy draining as he took another step. He was down the street, farther than he had ever gone. He could feel the pull from the house, it stretched like taffy as he took another step. It felt like it was about to break and he felt like a shell, like he was losing every bit of himself as he moved. It shocked him and he let himself be pulled back until he could right himself and began to move on his own back to the house. 

He could see a blue figure down by the house and all the houses that lined the street began to un-blur as he got closer. The blue figure began to sharpen until Patrick was in focus. It got like that sometimes. Things got blurry and indistinguishable if he got too far from the sweater. 

“The further you go, the more black the house becomes,” Patrick said. “And it feels bad. Like something is really wrong.”

“How does it feel now?” David asked. He stopped in front of Patrick, right in the middle between their two driveways. 

Patrick turned to look at the house. 

“Normal,” Patrick shrugged. 

“Oh,” David walked up onto the grass and laid back on it so he was looking up at the stars, the street was just dark enough that you could see them clearly. 

“Can I join you?”

“Sure,” David looked over and watched as Patrick settled next to him. 

The night was quiet, still in a way that David barely experienced when he was alive. Not until he moved to Schitt’s Creek, but even then that was short-lived. He watched as the stars twinkled. 

“Shooting star!” Patrick gasped and pointed up at the sky. David caught the tail end of it. “Make a wish!”

David closed his eyes on instinct, but nothing came to mind. There was nothing he could wish for. He couldn’t wish for their money back, or to see his family, or for Twyla to not burn the frozen pizzas. 

Maybe he could wish to move onto the next step of whatever this—afterlife—was. 

But that was terrifying. 

_ Raincheck.  _ He thought.  _ I’ll take a raincheck on a wish.  _

“Did you make a wish?” Patrick asked. 

“Yeah,” David lied. “Did you?”

“No,” Patrick responded. 

“I didn’t either.”

There was no use in lying now. Patrick chuckled next to him. David looked over and Patrick was laying on his side, facing David. 

“If I laid here and wished to move onto the next bit of afterlife,” Patrick started. David widened his eyes at Patrick. Was this a ghost thing? Did Patrick have the ability to read his mind? “Would that be the equivalent of wanting to die? If you were still alive.”

“That’s dark,” David commented. He turned his head back up to the stars. 

“Are you going to tell me that you’ve never thought of it?” Patrick asked. “I’ve been dead for less than a year and I’ve thought about it.”

“Do you want to move on?” David was still on the fence about that himself. And he had been dead for much longer. But Patrick was wearing a blue button down and Levi’s and dress shoes. He seemed like someone who was put together. He probably knew himself and what he wanted and needed. 

“I don’t know. I did want to,” Patrick said. “You’re the first other ghost that I’ve met. Figured I’d be alone for all of eternity.”

“What? Now you think because you know a singular ghost everything will be okay? That another person will solve it all?” David sat up and Patrick mirrored him until they were sitting facing each other. “We’ll be best friends forever?”

“Well, no,” Patrick smirked. “I thought that now that there’s two of us, maybe more will come and we’ll just be one of those haunted streets you hear stories about. Cars turn onto the street and then never turn off. You take a picture and it’s full of orbs. There’s random women dressed in Victorian garb that just walk up and down the street.”

David smirks. Now that David’s a ghost for this long, he knows that’s not how it works.

“Could be fun!” Patrick tapped the grass between them. “We could scare the trick-or-treaters.”

David laughed, which made him freeze. He hadn’t heard that sound in a long time. Nothing was funny anymore when you were alone. Patrick smiled gently at him. 

“Have you gone searching yet for what will get you to move on?” Patrick asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how there’s always been that legend about ghosts. That they’re stuck on earth because they can’t find their way to the afterlife, or haven’t gotten what they needed most as a human,” Patrick said. David watched as he rubbed his palms on his jeans. 

He wondered if that was one of Patrick’s fidgets when he was a human. David’s caught himself wringing his hands together even though ghost anxiety is much less stressful than human anxiety. He couldn’t die again. Which was always his  _ worst case scenario.  _

Patrick looked at him expectantly. 

“No, I haven’t,” David responded. He motioned to the street. “I can’t even walk more than a block away, how am I going to find it?”

“It could just be a mental thing?” Patrick asked. 

That was the problem. David didn’t know what he needed or wanted. He was known for changing his mind about things he coveted, and he had never felt compelled to “search inside himself” to find his heart's desires. That was scary, no thank you, and completely overwhelming. 

How would he even start figuring out the thing that was holding him back. 

David just shrugged.

“What do you miss most from before?” Patrick asked. 

“What is this? Twenty questions?” David snapped. He was tired of all the questions. 

“I just—”

David cut him off. “I’m going to go back inside. Sometimes Mark watches shitty tv when he can’t sleep.”

“Oh, okay.”

*

David hid from Patrick for days. He felt like an asshole for storming off, but thinking about his past life still hurt. 

They hadn’t talked very much, but part of David kind of missed Patrick. The conversations had been … refreshing. Different from the conversations he’s had with himself for the last handful of years.

It was just after sunset when he went outside to the fence that separated the two yards. He let himself float up and peek over it. Patrick wasn’t outside, but maybe he’d notice David and come outside. David could wait. 

The sky got darker and David waited. 

When Patrick finally came outside when the crickets started to sing. He came up to the fence. He stared at David, who was very aware of the fact that he should be the first one to speak. 

“I miss pizza the most,” David said. “From before.”

Patrick pursed his lips and nodded. 

“Wanna come hang out in the treehouse?” David asked. Patrick looked past him. 

“Sure,” Patrick shrugged. 

In the treehouse they laid on the ground and looked up at the stars and constellations that Mark painted on the ceiling of the treehouse. 

“What do you miss most?” David asked. 

“Movie nights,” Patrick answered immediately. Oh, David wanted to change his answer. “Real movie nights. With snacks. Lights off and a new movie on the tv. We—I would watch movie after movie until I fell asleep on the couch.”

David’s eyebrows perked at the  _ ‘we’.  _

“What was your favorite movie?” David asked. He looked over at Patrick who had his eyes closed. Patrick hummed. 

“Steel Magnolias,” Patrick finally said. David hadn’t expected that. “It’s my mom’s favorite. We watched it a lot together when I was growing up.”

“But is it your favorite?” David asked. There was a difference. 

“Yes,” Patrick said with certainty. “What was yours?”

“Notting Hill,” David said immediately. 

“Those two movies would make a perfect double feature,” Patrick murmured. “Julia would have her happy ending at the end of the night.”

David couldn’t help but smile. “She would.”

When he looked over at Patrick again, there was a soft grin on his face. 

“I really miss baseball,” Patrick whispered. “I miss playing, watching, hell, even talking about it.”

“Yeah, I can’t really help you there,” David turned to face him. One good thing about being a ghost is that hard flooring doesn’t hurt. “Don’t know a thing about baseball.”

“I could teach you,” Patrick turned to face him, mirroring his position. He was grinning, but David shook his head. 

“No, thank you. Would rather die,” David didn’t realize what he’d said until Patrick laughed. 

“Hate to break it to you, David,” Patrick smirked at him. “But you’re already dead.”

“Would rather die a second time,” David amended his statement. 

“Okay,” Patrick laughed. His body shook with it and David was charmed. He also didn’t mind the way Patrick’s eyes closed only to blink back open slowly. 

“I miss my sweaters,” David said. Oh, his wardrobe. He hadn’t even had a chance to wear his new Balenciaga that he found on eBay. 

“The one you’re wearing is pretty cool,” Patrick said. David looked down at the sweater he was wearing. It was Neil Barrett with the lightning bolt striking down his chest.

“I have better,” David froze. “I had better.”

Patrick chewed on his bottom lip, eyes focused on David’s sweater. “It’s a good one, David.”

“Okay,” David whispered. 

“I miss driving,” Patrick turned onto his back. “At night. Down country roads. Windows down and music playing loudly.”

“I never did that,” David said. 

“No?” Patrick asked. “Come on.”

“What?”

But David followed Patrick out of the treehouse and to the front of the house. 

“Okay, right or left?” Patrick asked. 

“Left,” David said, just because it felt like the correct choice. 

“Okay,” Patrick walked down the street and David followed.

They walked until David felt that tug from earlier. Patrick turned around to face the direction from which they came. 

“We’re going to run down the street as fast as we can,” Patrick explained. 

“I don’t run,” David protested. 

“You’re a ghost. We don’t get tired.”

Patrick’s eyebrows were raised and David rolled his eyes at him. 

“Fine,” David could entertain whatever this was. 

“1, 2, 3,” Patrick counted off. “Go!”

David waited a second, just to make sure that Patrick was running and it wasn’t just a prank. He followed Patrick quickly, running as fast as he could. Patrick let out a shout and David shook his head, but didn’t stop. 

“I had a friend who was a big baseball player!” Patrick said. David was confused. “Back in high school he could throw that speedball by you. Make you look like a fool boy.”

Oh, he was singing. 

“Saw him the other night at this roadside bar I was walking in, he was walking out. We went back inside and sat down,” Patrick’s voice was clear, strong, and beautiful. David closed his eyes and let Patrick’s voice guide him. The reassurance that he couldn’t get hurt also helped. “Had a few drinks but all he kept talking about was glory days!”

Patrick sang about glory days as the wind rushed past them as they ran.

There was a soft tug that turned into a less gentle pull and they stopped short. But Patrick kept singing. David opened his eyes to watch Patrick turn in circles, eyes closed, as he sang about glory days. 

When he opened his eyes, he tilted his head towards the direction they came and David nodded and they took off running again as Patrick finished the song. 

“ _ Glory Days _ , by Bruce Springsteen,” Patrick said when David asked. They were sitting in the middle of the street. “You’ve never heard it?”

“Nope,” David pushed at a loose rock in the asphalt. 

They both looked up at the sound of tires coming down the street. David closed his eyes and let the car pass through him. When he opened his eyes, Patrick was shuddering. 

“I’m still not used to that,” Patrick said. David just smiled at him. “Anyways, that—” Patrick waved down both ends of the street “—is just a fraction of how it felt to drive down country roads, windows down and the classics playing.”

“It was nice,” David responded, surprised to find it was true. It was nice. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again if you know any of the divas.”

“I know some,” Patrick threw a rock at David and David scoffed at him. 

“That was rude!” David threw one back. 

“How do you do that so easily?” Patrick asked. 

“Huh?” David needed clarification. He didn’t find anything easy. Especially now. 

“Go between being solid and all ghost-like,” Patrick said. 

“Just practice,” David said. 

“How long exactly has it been?” Patrick pried. 

David shook his head at him. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fair,” Patrick said. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” David whispered. 

They sat in silence until the sun came up. 

*

“David!”

David’s head snapped over to face the sliding glass door in the dining room. He was hovering in the corner of the living room, watching the newest episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta with Grace. Well, Grace was asleep as the new baby napped. 

“David!”

He rolled his eyes at the shout and went outside to see what Patrick wanted. 

“What?!” David exclaimed when he was face to face with Patrick. 

“I wanted to show you something,” Patrick said. He looked serious, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused on the hand he was holding out. 

“What?” David wanted to get back before the commercial break was over. 

“Shake my hand!” Patrick’s enthusiasm was overwhelming, but adorable, so David reached out, just like they had the first time they’d talked, over a month ago in Patrick’s yard. Except this time—

David gasped as his hand wrapped around Patrick’s.

“I’ve been practicing,” Patrick grinned. David cleared his throat and nodded. Patrick’s lips turned down and his eyes were wide. Concerned. “David?”

“Um, it’s just been a while,” David said. He didn’t let go. “There were a couple of times, once I got the hang of everything, where I tried to reach out to the living, but it didn’t go well? And I never tried again…”

Patrick wrapped his other hand around David’s, both of them held on tightly to David’s.

“So it’s been a while. Forgot what it felt like,” If David could cry, he knew he’d be crying now. He was a crier. Before. 

“Well, you can hold my hand whenever you’d like, David,” Patrick murmured. David just nodded. 

Patrick was looking at him so intently. David pulled his hand from Patrick’s. 

“Thank you,” David said. “Your new trick is very cool.”

“Thanks, I tried very hard,” Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets. “You can go back to whatever you were doing. Just wanted to show you.”

David just nodded and disappeared into the house. The tv was still showing commercials, but he had been out there for a while. 

“Oh, fuck,” David whispered once he realized he missed a full segment. 

*

“What’s one thing you would’ve brought with you if you could?” David asked. 

They were back in the front yard. This time in the middle of the afternoon. Both of their adoptive families were out for the day, so there was absolutely nothing to do but hang out. 

“My guitar,” Patrick said. 

“You answered that very quickly,” David commented. 

The kids across the street were playing in their front yard. One of their parents was sitting on their porch with a glass of wine. 

“Cause it’s an easy question. My guitar would provide the most amount of entertainment, and I wouldn’t have to worry about technology and the whole me being a ghost thing if I said phone. Who would pay for my data and wouldn’t my ghost EVP bullshit mess with the wiring? So it wouldn’t work in the end?” Patrick stretched out his legs in front of him. 

“I don’t know!” David exclaimed. “I didn’t make it a habit to learn about ghosts when I was a human.”

“Okay,” Patrick laughed. “What would you bring?”

“An endless journal and a pen that never runs out of ink,” David said. 

“I feel like that’s cheating. An endless journal and a pen that never runs out of ink?” Patrick laughed. He moved his leg until his foot was close to David’s, and David just had a second to focus on his foot. Patrick’s foot tapped against David’s. “That’s like a million copies of it.”

“But it’s only one journal and one pen,” David pointed out. “You can’t argue with that logic.”

“You can’t,” Patrick agreed. “Is that what you did before? Were you a writer?”

David just stared at Patrick who held his hands up. 

“Forget I said anything,” Patrick said. “I know the drill.”

“Did you write songs on your guitar?” The question pained David to ask. On a sliding scale of embarrassment, amateur singer-songwriters were at the very top. David had never met one that was good, and after Bergie Mottle included seven in their art installation at David’s gallery, David made a promise to himself that he would cut ties with all of that. 

“Yes I did,” Patrick grinned. “I could tell how painful that was for you.”

“Well, I haven’t had a great past with singer-songwriters,” David grimaced. It was really bad. Very bleak. Even beyond just Bergie Mottle.

“Does it make it better or worse that I was a business consultant, so I only really got to play my music at open mic nights at the coffee shop by my apartment?” Patrick asked, cheeky grin in place. 

“If I could, I would vomit.”

*

David wasn’t sure about how it happened, but holding hands became a thing that him and Patrick did. Frequently. Every time they laid back to look at the stars, Patrick’s hand would slip into David’s and they would hold onto each other while they talked. 

Some days they talked for hours on end, others they drifted in and out of conversations. David learned that Patrick’s parents had a lake house where he spent most of his weekends. David told him about Adelina, his nanny, who had the most patience out of anyone he knew. Who made David feel more love than he ever thought possible, and up until the day that he died, was more than he ever thought he deserved. 

Tonight, David drifted out of the house once he noticed Patrick laying out on the street. Right in the middle, along the dashed yellow line. 

“Hey,” David called out. 

Patrick turned his head to look at him. He didn’t say anything. 

“Everything okay?” David asked as he lowered himself to sit next to Patrick. 

“Yeah,” Patrick whispered. 

When David was settled on his back, Patrick reached out and grabbed his hand; grip tight enough that David couldn’t wiggle his fingers. The sky was pitch black, the stars were covered by the rain clouds that had came in during the afternoon. 

“I lied,” Patrick said. 

“Hm?” David hummed. 

“Today was supposed to be my wedding day,” Patrick muttered. “Um, I died shortly after the engagement. But we had already set a date because she wanted to get married on her parent’s 35 th wedding anniversary. Said she thought it would be lucky.”

Patrick broke off with a chuckle. “It was real lucky.”

David felt something drop in his chest. Of course Patrick was engaged. It made sense. The buttoned up appearance, the business consultant job and the fiancée who wanted to get married on a special day in her parent’s life. It was sweet and nothing David would’ve ever had. 

“Getting married would’ve been the biggest mistake of our lives.”

David shook his head. He couldn’t have heard that correctly. 

“We—uh,” Patrick paused. David turned to face him and wrapped his other hand around Patrick’s. “We’d been together on and off since high school. We just kept falling back into it, even though we both knew we needed different things. She needed someone who could actually be there for her, who wanted and needed her the way she did them.”

“What did you want?” David asked. 

Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know. I think that was part of the problem. On paper, it was supposed to be perfect. It just wasn’t. It was lacking a lot.”

Patrick trailed off and they laid in silence for a bit. Patrick looked up at the stars and David watched Patrick as he worried his lip between his teeth. 

“The day I died, I had a panic attack and to feel better I went and drove circles around town. I was just thinking about how I couldn’t go through with the wedding and was trying to figure out how to end it for real,” Patrick rubbed his face with his free hand. “Was turning back into town when my phone rang, I got distracted and then—”

Patrick waved his hand around. 

“I uh, think I need a hug, David,” Patrick said. 

“Come here,” David laid down and tugged Patrick’s hand until he was tucked into David’s side. It was … David knew that he shouldn’t expect warmth, that wasn’t physically possible considering their state. But it was still nice. Patrick was solid against him, and if David closed his eyes, he could imagine how it would’ve felt before.

With Patrick’s head tucked underneath David’s chin as he held onto David. 

It would’ve been nice.

David held him for hours, until the sun came up and people started leaving their homes for work. He wasn’t ready to let go when he did, but Patrick thanked him, voice soft and David realized he’d do pretty much anything Patrick asked. 

“Wanna teach me about baseball?” David asked. 

“Please, I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

*

Something changed between them. David noticed the longer glances from Patrick. He noticed how he wanted to spend more time with Patrick, how he looked for him all the time, constantly stared out the window to see if he was outside. 

He noticed how Patrick was polite, wouldn’t push him to talk about anything David didn’t want to, but he’d keep David talking, like he wanted to hear everything David had to say. 

It was nice. He felt good when he was around Patrick. Better than he ever did before. 

“Boo!”

David jumped back from the window he was staring out while he day dreamed. Patrick’s face was right in the middle of the window, laughing hysterically. That  _ jerk _ . 

“That was mean!” David cried out. 

Patrick was still laughing when David let himself float through the wall separating them. 

“I didn’t appreciate that,” David said. 

“Sorry,” Patrick said between chuckles. He obviously wasn’t. “What were you thinking about? You seemed really out of it.”

“Uh,” David followed Patrick to the treehouse. “You, actually.”

“Oh really?” Patrick sat on the floor, in the middle of the space, right under the Pleiades. “What about me?”

_ Be brave David, for once in your existence.  _ David begged himself. He sat across from Patrick. 

“Just, um, how thankful I am that you came here,” David said. He felt the memory of his heart beating in his chest. “How you’ve made this whole thing feel bearable.”

Patrick’s eyes were wide as he stared at David. 

“Remember when you told me to make a wish? From the shooting star,” David said. That was months ago, but the memory of it burned bright. Patrick hummed in acknowledgement. “I think this—” David waved a hand between them. “Was what I always wished for when I was alive. Or something like this.”

“David,” Patrick breathed. 

“Hope I didn’t make this weird,” David whispered. 

“You didn’t,” Patrick replied just as quietly. 

David cleared his throat and looked out at the house. 

“Wanna go for a late night drive through the country? Windows down and music blasting?” David asked. 

Patrick nodded.

When they were on the street, Patrick turned to David. “Song request?”

David pursed his lips as he thought about it. “Only The Good Die Young? Or is that too on the nose?”

Patrick laughed and shook his head. “That works.”

They walked in silence until they felt that pull. It didn’t hurt anymore, wasn’t uncomfortable. He had gotten used to it with this little routine they picked up. 

“Ready?” Patrick asked. 

“Ready.”

“Let’s go!” Patrick took off and David followed with a smile as Patrick began to sing. 

Afterwards, they stood in the street, between their two homes. 

“Hey,” Patrick held out his hand. David took it. 

Patrick was looking at him so intently. It made David nervous, but Patrick’s eyes moved down to David’s lips. He waited, but Patrick remained so still. 

David let go of Patrick’s hand to grasp at his bicep. 

Patrick’s eyes widened and David leaned in and kissed him. 

It was … different than it was before. 

Patrick kissed him back and David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s shoulders to hold him close. The kiss was soft, gentle, and full of wonder as Patrick’s hands settled on David’s hips. 

It lacked the warmth that kisses before had, but David settled into it and he imagined how it would’ve been like if they had kissed when they were still alive. If David could feel the warmth of Patrick’s lips, could feel his heartbeat against his thumb where it rested on Patrick’s neck. Could feel the wet tip of Patrick’s tongue as it teased David’s bottom lip. 

There was a gentle hum of something instead, like all the bits of his body were vibrating from an energy between them. He felt it settle in his bones as Patrick’s hands tilted David’s head just slightly. 

David felt alive in a way he never had before. It was like because he was striped of all the little bits, he could focus on Patrick. 

Patrick who was firm and tangible against him. Who pulled back just slightly, as if his body told him to  _ breathe.  _ But they didn’t have to, so David crowded back into Patrick. He swept him up in his arms and Patrick melted against him. 

It was perfect. 

David pulled away to look at Patrick. God, he wished he could’ve done this when they were alive. He would give anything to see Patrick blush—to see if he would blush after a kiss like that. 

“Thank you, David,” Patrick said, voice tiny in the night air. 

“For what?” David asked. 

“I’ve never done that before, with a guy,” Patrick explained. David nodded. “I was starting to think that I was never going to be brave enough to do that first.”

“Well, I am a  _ very  _ generous person,” David teased. 

“Yeah, you are.”

This time, Patrick leaned up to kiss him. Right there, under the real Pleiades.

*

“I’m gay,” Patrick whispered some time later. David turned to look at him. They were laying on the sidewalk, down the block for the houses, right where that pull back to their objects started. “That’s it. That’s why it never worked with Rachel.”

“Okay,” David squeezed Patrick’s hand.

“It clicked when you kissed me. It felt right,” Patrick murmured. He turned to look at David. “You make me feel right, David.”

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. Even more romantic than the last half of the Downton Christmas special that I caught because Grace got distracted while flipping through the channels,” David definitely would’ve been blinking back tears right now if he could cry. 

“It’s true,” Patrick leaned forward. David met him halfway, drawn forward by a pleasant magnetism that had him aching for more. 

Later, when they said goodbye, David watched as Patrick made his way back into the house. He waited outside, not quite ready to end the night. 

He watched as the blue around the house got less muddy, more of a pure blue. It pulsed, which made his eyebrows furrow and then it got brighter. The street was lit up in blue.

And then David watched as the blue disappeared. 

“Patrick?!” David screamed out as he ran to the house. 

He didn’t think before he ran in. He had never been inside the neighbors house before. He paused just inside and looked around. He needed to look for Patrick. He couldn’t feel his presence, but maybe, maybe Patrick was still here. 

David tore through the house but didn’t find him. 

He felt—awful. Like a part of him was suddenly missing. 

He drifted off into the back yard, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the baseball glove on one of the lounge chairs. 

It was just a plain glove, no hint of blue, of Patrick’s soul.

He was gone. 

David was alone again and he could feel his heart breaking. It was a foreign feeling, different than how he felt at the end of his fleeting relationships when he was alive. 

He could see it now, how he had steadily been falling in love with Patrick. 

Patrick made him feel free. More so than when David had all the money in the world to take him away from his problems. 

Patrick listened to him and David knew it. 

Patrick was …

David steeled himself and reached for the glove. He held it in his hands as he went to the treehouse. 

It was littered with memories. David laid down and closed his eyes. If he thought about it, he could feel Patrick there with him, could see his wide eyes. He could hear Patrick explaining baseball to him and David tore his eyes open. 

But Patrick wasn’t there. 

David wanted him there more than anything. 

David wanted to kiss him again. 

Hug him. 

He wanted to be with him. 

He wanted to tell Patrick that he loved him.

He had a feeling that Patrick loved him too. 

No, he knew it. 

David felt an inexplicable pull from his house. It was stronger than when he reached the end of the block. He got up, left the treehouse and made his way back to the house. 

The pull didn’t stop there. 

He made his way up the stairs, into the daughter’s bedroom and into the closet where black and orange swirled around his sweater. 

The colors intensified and David felt an intense pressure. 

Lights flashed and then it was all gone. 

*

David opened his eyes and gasped. 

He was … he didn’t know where he was. 

He wasn’t at the house.

It was some sort of field?

David looked around. There were trees and flowers and Patrick?

David turned to face him. 

“Hi,” Patrick smiled at him. 

“Hi,” David said breathily. 

“You’re finally here,” Patrick teased. 

“Oh my god, I came through like, 20 minutes after you did!” David exclaimed exasperatedly. 

Patrick just shook his head with a laugh and held his hand out. 

David stepped up and reached out, entangled his fingers into Patrick’s. He hummed at the feeling of Patrick’s fingers, solid and soft, between David’s. 

“Felt like forever.” Patrick whispered.

“It did,” David agreed. “And we know what forever feels like.”

“Yeah,” Patrick whispered as he looked down at David’s hand and gave a gentle tug. “What was yours?”

“What?” David asked. 

“What was the thing that you were holding onto?” Patrick clarified. “Mine was me not coming to terms with who I was, what was yours?”

“Oh,” David pursed his lips. “I don’t think we have time for that.”

“Really?” Patrick smirked as he tugged David closer to him and wrapped his arms tightly around David’s waist. 

“Yeah, we actually should probably find out where we are,” David waved a finger in the air. “Now kiss me again. I didn’t die twice for you to not kiss me again.”

Patrick quirked a smile at him. 

“Of course, David.”

This kiss felt like the last piece of the puzzle of everything that David was missing before the fire at the motel. 

He had gotten his family back, a best friend, humility, compassion and growth. 

Now, he had love too. 

  
  



End file.
